


Iron Bull's Letter

by honeybee592



Series: OTP: You're the boss [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:06:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3778486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/honeybee592
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iron Bull has to leave Skyhold but he doesn't want to leave Grace alone. So he writes her a letter and sets her a challenge--something that will remind her of him.</p><p>Whether she can follow the letter's instructions or not is another matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Bull's Letter

Bull kissed Grace’s forehead, hands firmly on her shoulders.

“I know you’ll miss me,” he said. “That’s why I’ve left you this.” He handed her an envelope, closing his hands over hers as she went to open it. “Not yet. Wait until morning.” She looked up at him, frowning, but she nodded. “Good. I’ll miss you but you won’t even know I’m gone.”

She looked like she might cry, all lost and alone. He hoped she’d keep the envelope sealed. She would. With one last kiss, he set off, closing the door softly behind him. Time to ride. Time to crush the qun. Or a part of it at least. Krem had the horses ready. Bull mounted and let out a roar, rallying the Chargers as they galloped out of Skyhold. He didn’t turn around to look up at the tower but he felt the dragon tooth around his neck, anchoring him to Grace.

***

Grace turned the envelope over in her hands, ran her thumb over the wax seal. Horns pointing up. She smiled, pleased he’d taken to wearing the signet ring she’d had made for him. Using it, too. She could just slip her finger under and pop the seal but Bull had told her to wait. She shivered, his voice still fresh in her ears. He’d almost whispered the words, a low rumble, his private voice, just for her. She’d wait.

Leaving the envelope on her desk, she headed downstairs, determined to find something else to occupy her time until she could go to bed.

Easier said than done. Grace half listened as Cullen informed her with great zeal where all the Inquisition troops were currently stationed. He pointed them out on the map, indicating their intentions by pushing their markers with a little stick thingy. It probably had a name. Grace never bothered to learn it. Maker, why’d she thought asking Cullen inane questions would be a good way to distract her? She chewed her thumb nail. All she could do was think about Bull, the envelope, and the kiss he’d left her with.

“Thank you, Cullen. You’ve been most helpful.” She might’ve interrupted him. She wasn’t sure but the poor man looked crestfallen. Never mind. She’d go bother Dorian instead.

*

Dorian kept Grace entertained right up to dinner and then some. In the main hall, surrounded by most of her inner circle, news and gossip passed across the table with the potatoes and salt. Over pudding, Varric suggested a round or two of Wicked Grace in the games room, much to the delight of the more daring of the group. Instead of making her excuses and retiring to her chambers for peace and quiet before bed, Grace sat up.

“Deal me in,” she said.

*

Grace climbed the stairs to her chambers, her pockets only a little lighter than they been this morning. She wasn’t the worst at cards, not by far. Still, not the best.

She shut the door behind her, saying hello to Ari and Druff as they stretched on the bed. Their ears perked her up while she changed into her nightdress, folding her day clothes and setting them on the couch with clean underwear.

Just as she pulled the cover back she remembered the envelope. It sat on the desk still, unmoved since Bull had left earlier in the day. She glanced between it and the bed. Wouldn’t hurt to just hold it. She tiptoed over, picked it up. Her stomach flipped with guilt as her thumb teased the edge. No. She wouldn’t open it. But she _would_ keep it on her nightstand and open it first thing.

Once she’d climbed into bed, she rolled over, hugging her pillow tight, inhaling deep, searching for Bull’s lingering scent. _Just a week_ , she told herself. _He’s only gone for a week, and he said I wouldn’t even know he’s gone._

*

Sun streamed through the windows as a cat purred in Grace’s ear.

“Get off me, all right, I know.” She batted the cat away, rubbing her eyes. They opened on the envelope. Her heart thudded, anticipation building. She took it in both hands, feeling the crisp paper under her fingertips. Druff bumped his head under her hands, knocking the envelope away.

“Okay! I get it. Let me up.” She left the envelope on her pillow and slipped out of bed, padding out to the balcony and shaking some biscuits out of a tin for the cats. Druff started scarfing them down, Ari not far behind, then Tiger and Hunter.

“Good kitties. Will you leave me alone now? Thank you.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, picking up the envelope again. Now that morning brought her permission to open it she felt an odd sense of disappointment, like the build-up of anticipation had been too great. Bull never let her feel like that though. If he promised her something, he delivered.

Finally she cracked the seal, slipping the letter out and unfolding it. Bull’s careful script spanned only one line.

_There’s a loose brick to the right of the door to Cullen’s office. Find what’s behind it._

Grace frowned, shoulders slumping. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. A love letter, perhaps. Heartfelt admissions of love and loneliness, pages she could clutch at night. Not one measly line that didn’t even say ‘I love you.’

She read the words again. Despite the brevity, she admired the curly lettering. Her tutor back in Ostwick would have been proud to have Bull as a student.

Grace dressed, cracked open her door and retrieved the tray of breads and jams the servant had left out for her. Cullen’s office, she thought as she chewed a hunk of sourdough. Fine. She’d go look.

*

A loose brick? Just look at all these bricks! How was she supposed to find a loose one? Grace stood before Cullen’s office door, hands on her hips, staring up at the wall. Her frustration with Bull’s instruction almost had her huffing and storming off but curiosity got the better of her. She tested the sturdiness of a brick or two, pressing her hand against them and shaking. Nothing.

“Good morning, your Grace. Uh, Inquisitor.”

Grace jumped at Cullen’s voice behind her. “Cullen! Good morning!”

He tilted his head, lips quirked. “Were you waiting for me? You know you could’ve waited inside.”

Grace shook her head quickly. “No no, just, um. Admiring the view.” She cast a wide arc with her arm.

Cullen followed her gaze. “Yes, the mountains do look spectacular this morning.” He turned back to Grace. “Come, there are matters that require your attention, and since you’re here… Well, they won’t take long.” He opened his door and held his arm out, giving her no option but to follow.

*

The quick meeting turned out to be ever so dull. Grace struggled to pay attention as Cullen droned on. Finally Grace was able to take her leave, shutting the door behind her and letting out a breath. Bloody Maker’s curly shoes. Ninth bell rang. Only the ninth! She felt like she’d been trapped in there for days, not just one measly hour.

She got halfway down the stairs before she remembered why she’d been outside Cullen’s office in the first place. Turning, she ran back up, stopping in front of the wall. Once her heart had calmed down again, she stepped forward, reaching out for a brick that she swore hadn’t been sticking out that much earlier. She tested it, gripping the stone and wiggling. It came away in her hand revealing an empty space. Up on tiptoes, Grace peered in. Another envelope. She grabbed it, went to tear the seal when she read a small note under the wax.

 _Remember to put the stone back_.

Right. With the stone back in place, she cracked the wax. He’d used the Horns Up signet again. Another piece of paper folded in half.

 _So you’ve made it this far, good. Here’s the deal. I’ve set up a hunt for you. At the end of this letter is another clue. Find all the clues, collect all the goods, and you’ll win a prize. And not one of those stuffed nugs like at the fete. A_ real _prize. You know the kind I mean. My lips on your lips, fingers between your legs._ That _kind of prize. Are you interested, Grace?_

Grace gasped. She nodded, whispered a ‘yes’ as she read on.

_In the loft above the stables. Find the ribbon tied to the ladder._

Grace folded the note back up, slipped it into her pocket and near ran across the ramparts and down the steps to the stable.

“Morning, your Grace,” Dennet called.

“Morning,” Grace called back, not stopping for chit chat. She skidded to a halt when she saw Blackwall though. Damn, of course he’d be up and ready.

“Grace, good morning.” He smiled at her, a little puzzled. She must look a picture, out of breath and cheeks all flushed. “Can I help you?”

“No no. Thank you. I just left something up here yesterday. Or the day before. I think I left it here.” She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions and made her way up the ladder.

No ribbon. Damn. What if someone had taken it? She looked around. Maybe it’d fallen off. She widened her search, getting more frantic. But there, in the corner, a ladder up against the wall leading… nowhere. She rushed over, tripping on a rope but steadying herself as she looked up. A ribbon at the top. One of their yellow ribbons. The ones Bull tied Grace with. Her belly flipped as she set to climbing the ladder.

“Are you sure I can’t help? Is there something up here you need? Can’t have you falling off ladders.”

Grace froze, staring down at Blackwall. He’d followed her up to the landing, arms folded, piercing eyes looking around.

“I’m quite fine, thank you.” She gave him a tight smile.

He didn’t look convinced but he let out a whistle and headed back down to the ground level. “Oh, Grace,” he called, pausing to look back up at her. “When you’ve found whatever it is you’re looking for, I’d like to discuss the last mission with you, if possible.”

“Of course, I’ll be right down.” She waited for Blackwall to disappear from sight before rushing up the ladder and pulling the bow undone. She slipped it into her brassiere and steeled herself for whatever talk Blackwall wished to have.

While Blackwall only required her attention for a few minutes, Dennet demanded a few hours.

“Need to take better care of the horses,” he said, leading her through the stables to where her mare stood chewing hay.

The ribbon itched her skin, her connection to Bull pressed against her breast. Promises of more hid within that ribbon but remained elusive.

Dennet left her alone for a moment while he went to get another brush. Grace glanced behind her. Coast was clear. She set her brush on a stool and pulled the ribbon free. Her mare whinnied immediately, no doubt annoyed by the pause in having her coat brushed.

“It’s okay, darling. Just give me a minute, please.” Grace pleaded with the horse, patting her side while holding the ribbon by one end.

There was Bull’s penmanship on the ribbon itself.

_Under the throne._

There was a crude drawing of a… a flower at one end of the ribbon. Heat bloomed with her as she folded the ribbon in half and half again, just how Bull would, and slipped it back into her brassiere. Just in time, too. Dennet returned with a bigger brush and firm instructions on how many strokes the mare needed every night.

Grace nodded and prayed that all this horse grooming would end soon.

*

Lunch time. No chance of sneaking around the throne without the guards looking at her funny or otherwise drawing curious glances. Grace munched on a sandwich by the training ground, silently cursing everyone who passed, regardless of whether they’d transgressed.

Her spot in the sun clouded over. She looked up to see Harding standing there, rubbing her hands together. Oh! Lace was a delight. Grace smiled at her, swallowing her mouthful of bread as fast as she could.

“You were looking a little dejected, your worship. Perhaps a friendly target competition might cheer you up?”

Grace dithered, glancing towards the main hall and back to Lace. She had this smile that made her look like she was in pain. Grace knew that smile--the ‘making an effort’ smile. Often made one look like one’s kidneys were haemorrhaging. Grace could hardly say no to a shy person who made the effort to be social. Still, as she grabbed her bow from the armoury, she thought of the throne, and Bull’s next message.

*

Grace won--just. Though she suspected Harding went easy on her. Grace adjusted the ribbon in her brassiere as she stomped through Skyhold.

After dinner, too tired to read and too cranky to listen to Varric’s tales, Grace trudged up to her chambers, frustrated. She set the notes and ribbon on her nightstand and vowed to wake at midnight and search the throne.

*

Sunlight poured through the windows of the tower. Grace scrunched her face up and rolled over. Then sat up abruptly, throwing the covers off. Damn damn damn! She’d slept right through! How was she ever going to make it to the throne unnoticed? She cursed Bull as well. How dare he put the stupid clue in such a stupid place? Nearly being caught by both Cullen _and_ Blackwall was bad enough. But knowing Bull, the reward would be all the sweeter for her efforts.

Grace rubbed her legs together, trying to ease the throb at her centre. _Too early for this_ , she thought. But maybe not so late that the Keep would be busy.

She threw the blankets back and dressed quickly, ignoring her breakfast and rushing down the stairs.

The main hall wasn’t too busy. The guard at her chamber door, another couple further down the hall, and a hand full of servants bustling to and fro. Grace stepped toward the throne then hesitated. She looked down the hall and made eye contact with one of the guards. She gave a tight smile, cursing the day she’d ever been born as she altered her direction and marched down the hall and outside.

Maker’s balls, this was supposed to be simple! She huffed, hands on hips. No. She was the Inquisitor and if she wanted to go searching around the throne she bloody well could. She turned and marched back up the hall and set the throne in her sights.

She greeted the guard near the throne like she would any other person: very politely. Just like her mother taught her. Then she got on her hands and knees and searched under the throne. Just like any… normal… person… She refused to think about what she must look like.

There is was, the envelope. She could reach it… almost. Sweat prickled down her back as her fingers grazed the envelope, pushing it further away. With one last lunge she got it, dragging it out.

She make the mistake of looking at the guard. He had a strange expression, like he half wanted to call a Templar and make sure the Inquisitor hadn’t been taken over by a demon.

“Good day,” she said, walking away as fast as she could.

Once she reached an alcove near the door, she unfolded the paper, peered down at the writing, so small she could hardly read.

_Brie_

_Apple_

_Oil_

_Wine (fav. in cellar)_

A list. A shopping list. Grace huffed. Sure she loved cheese and apples but why oh why had Bull given her a _shopping_ list? He could’ve left those things for her! Now she had to go to the bloody kitchen and get a scolding from the cook who told her she ate barely enough to keep a sparrow alive. That wasn’t true at all. Grace just didn’t like boiled cabbage for lunch. Not even the sparrows would eat Cook’s boiled cabbage…

She sighed, gripped the list and gritted her teeth. She’d go in there, ask for the food, then leave. Simple. She was the _Inquisitor_. Cook _had_ to do what she said.

*

Grace pushed the kitchen door open, shrinking back immediately when the head cook yelled at whoever had just come in to _close the bloody door_.

“Oh, Herald! I didn’t realise it was you.” Cook wiped her hands on her apron and waved Grace over. “We’re rather busy preparing tomorrow’s lunch for those cursed knobs of Lady Montilyet’s. You’re not here to nag, are you?”

Grace shook her head. “No no. Just, hoping for a snack.” She asked for the items, stuttering when she got to the oil because really, that was a rather odd thing to ask for.

“You’ll ruin your appetite.” Cook didn’t move.

Grace’s heart sank but then Cook cracked a wide smile.

“Course you can have those things dear.” She shoved her way through the kitchen, grabbing a large brie, two apples, and a bottle of oil.

“Lavender,” she said. “Because it makes any boring salad smell wonderful. You eat all that up and I’ll be impressed!”

Grace thanked Cook and headed towards the cellar, thankful that _something_ had finally gone her way during this quest.

Her luck did not last.

Vivienne cornered her. “You need coaching on what you’re to say at the lunch.”

“The lunch?”

“Yes, dear. The lunch. Tomorrow. Had you forgotten?”

Grace squeezed the brie and had no choice but to follow Vivienne.

*

After her lesson on diplomacy, Grace managed to sneak a moment to herself in her room. She added the food to the notes and rubbed her shoulders. So tired. If only Bull were here to rub her back and take her far away from the Inquisition. But he wasn’t here.

At dinner Grace daydreamed, chewed with glazed eyes. Not even Dorian could distract her, lost as she was in a haze of frustrated lust. Kisses, that’s what Bull had promised her. His lips on hers even though he was away. How would he manage that? And with cheese and apples? What when on in that man’s head Grace could only guess.

Sera said something lewd about Grace’s doe eyes, shaking her from her daydreams about Bull and his kisses. Dorian was no help, encouraging Sera with his own innuendo. Before they could make her go any more pink, Grace told them all that they were horrible people and stormed off, pretending to go back to her room but veering off and taking a side door down to the cellar.

*

So many bottles, all stacked on their sides. Some covered in dust from sitting here so long. That meant they were either very expensive or tasted terrible. They might be both. Grace cast her eyes around the room. Her favourite wine, Bull had written. Which was that again? She liked so many. Grace wandered the racks, checking the bottles. Antivan reds, Orlesian whites. Ferelden even made a passable merlot--when the summer complied with the grapes’ wishes. She liked _all_ of these.

But there was one she liked the most, discovered recently. A pale pink rosé from Rivain. She blushed as she remembered her drinking it with Bull. A candle lit bath out on her balcony not two weeks past. Grapes and cheese, too. Bull’d taken her feet in his hands, rubbing them as she sipped on wine and ate grapes. The view of the mountains had been lost on her, so enamoured of the man in front of her. His hands had made their way further up her legs, pulling her further into the water, stroking, massaging, creeping up, stroking, teasing.

Grace shook her head, rubbed the glaze from her eyes. Now was _not_ the time to be thinking of _that_. She went straight for the rosé, hunted for a note. There, between two bottles.

She tore the envelope open, in too much of a hurry now to be careful. A note and another, smaller envelope fell to the floor. She sat on the floor reading the note.

_Got the wine? Don’t forget a glass. Last item: A feather. Could be a chicken feather, or a raven feather. Even better, one of Josephine’s quills. Find a new feather. We’ll add it to the collection. Once you’ve got that, retire to your chambers and open the next envelope. We’re almost there, Grace. Almost together again. So close I can taste you on my lips as I write these words._

Grace’s hands shook as she set the notes down. Together again. He’d only been gone two days. She missed him terribly. Her heart ached, her half of the dragon tooth heavy against her skin. And, she couldn’t help but notice, between her legs ached too, longed for his touch.

Once her heart had calmed, she made it to her feet. Feather. Oh, and a wine glass. She had one up in her room. No need to go taking one from the special crystal collection. Although... Josephine had her lunch plans for tomorrow well underway. The table would be set, all laid out elegantly for those snotty perfectionists. Grace grinned. She could pass through the dining hall, grab a glass, and then escape. Yes. Sera would be so proud.

She made her way through the basements of Skyhold, back up to the main hall. Thankfully the formal dining hall was empty for the evening. Grace snuck in, tiptoeing across the stone floor until she reached the rug running the length of the table and chairs. The room felt lonely, all set up but for the twenty guests and food. She rattled off all the names, just as Vivienne had taught. A door slammed at the end of the hall and she jumped. No one appeared though. Better get that glass and get out. She nabbed one and scurried away, poking her head around the door to check the coast was clear before straightening her shirt and walking out with her back straight.

Fatigue hit her hard, her body slumping. All she needed was one feather. Just one and she’d be done, be allowed to open the last envelope. But sleep tugged at her eyes, overpowering her desire for Bull’s kisses.

She trudged up the stairs, adding her spoils to the table. The cats settled around her, keeping her warm as she dreamed about her Iron Bull.

*

Grace ate her breakfast with determined munches. Today would be the day. She’d get her feather and she’d get her Bull.

A chicken or raven feather would be easy. Leliana’s ravens were always shedding. But she and Bull had plenty of common feathers. Besides, those feathers could be too stiff, feeling more like fingernails than soft tickles. Maybe she shouldn’t get ahead of herself. She didn’t know what she was to do with the feather yet.

As Grace deliberated over feathers, chewing her finger, footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Grace,” Josephine called.

Grace’s heart sunk. She turned and gave Josephine her best fake-smile.

Josephine put her hand on her hip, looking Grace up and down. “Lunch with the nobles is today! Are you going to change?”

“Change?”

“Yes. Change your clothes. You’re looking very... casual. Not to mention, dusty.” Josephine brushed Grace’s shoulder, frowning at whatever she found there.

Grace faltered. She hadn’t bargained being dragged into lunch preparations so early.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to arrive… fashionably late.”

Josephine put her arm around Grace’s shoulder and led her to the wardrobe.

“Oh no no. You must join us for breakfast champagne. Please. Lady Montbelliard is so looking forward to meeting you.”

“Isn’t she the one who called me a strumpet at the Winter Palace?”

“Well, yes, but we shall keep the wine away from her.”

Grace rubbed her neck. All she wanted was to find a feather and read her last letter. Why did she have to make nice with people who didn’t even like her? And at _this_ time of the morning?

Josephine must have sensed her annoyance. “Please, your Grace. If you do this for me, I shall be in your debt.” She tapped her writing board, drawing Grace’s attention to the candle and--

“Your quill,” Grace blurted out. “I’ll join you presently if I can have your quill.”

“Really?” Josephine glanced between Grace and the quill in her hand. She frowned and Grace’s cheeks heated as Josie considered the offer. “Very well.” She handed Grace the quill. “I shall see you in the dining hall at your earliest convenience.” She nodded and turned on her heel, leaving Grace standing with a quill in hand, feeling a little baffled.

Grace stared at the quill. She had all the items on Bull’s list, found all the clues. He’d be so proud! She could open the last letter now, read it through! But… Stupid lunch. Stupid nobles. If only she’d been able to go away with Bull, ride off on their horses, camp under the stars. Drink with the Chargers and sleep well into the morning. _She_ wasn’t the mercenary though. She was the _Inquisitor_. And Inquisitors had to dress up for the important guests.

*

Grace closed the door behind her, letting her head fall back with a thud. Six blighted hours. _Six._ Lunch should never take more than one hour, two at the most. A headache threatened to form from all the tight smiles and inane conversation. At least she wasn’t hungry; nine courses would fill anyone up for the rest of the day. The sun wasn’t close to setting but Maker did her bed look inviting. She eyed it, wondering if she would sleep the whole night if she curled up under the covers now. Sunlight glinted off the rosé bottle on her desk. A bolt of heat hit her core.

The final envelope sat unopened on her desk. Grace picked up the letter as she fished around for the corkscrew.

She flopped on the bed and took a deep breath before slipping her finger under the seal and cracking it. Six sheets of paper, folded in half, Bull’s neat script in big letters.

_Grace,_

_If you’re reading this letter, then you will have found all my clues and gathered all the items. If you haven’t, stop reading and go back and get them. You’ll need them all._

_I trust you enjoyed the hunt. I enjoyed laying the clues out. Cullen almost intercepted me while I fiddled with that stone outside his office, but you can take a qunari out of the Ben-Hassrath, but you can’t take the Ben-Hassrath out of the qunari. Or something like that. Anyway, back to the letter._

_I may not be with you right now, holding you, kissing you, but we don’t need to be in the same room to enjoy each other’s company. So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to touch yourself, all over, the way I tell you to in this letter. Don’t blow until the end. If you feel like you’re going to pop, stop. Take a deep breath, drink some water or wine, then once you’ve calmed down, pick up where you left off. Can you do that? Of course you can._

Any exhaustion Grace felt melted away as her heart beat hard. She crossed her legs, rubbing her thighs together, holding her breath. She re-read the paragraph savouring every word before continuing.

_First, get everything ready. Pour a glass of that wine, relax. Put the oil and feather within arm’s reach. You won’t need the apple or cheese until later so keep those out the way. And the ribbon from the stable. Have you still got it? You’ll need that soon._

Grace nearly knocked over the glass in her rush to stab the opener into the cork. She poured a glass, fishing bits of cork out before taking a gulp. With trembling hands she made sure the oil and feather were on her nightstand.

_Take your clothes off, slowly. We’ve got all the time in the world. Fold them, put them out the way. Are you standing on the bear skin rug? Can you feel the fur between your toes? Feels good, yes? Once you’re naked, run your hands over your body, head to toes. Get yourself familiar with how you feel._

She rushed to her feet, tugging at her dress before she remembered the first instruction. She took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror, concentrating as she undid the laces on her dress, feeling the thread drape across her neck. The bodice loosened, slipped over her shoulders baring the tops of her breasts. She sucked in a short breath, staring as she pulled the dress lower, lower, until her breasts popped out.

“Oh.” She looked… gorgeous.

The dress fell to the ground. Grace stepped out, found the hanger and placed the dress back in the wardrobe. Back on the fur rug, she slipped her underwear down, hooking her thumbs at the hips as she inched them down, like Bull would when he got undressed before her.

Finally naked, she dug her toes into the fur. It did feel good. All the better because they’d killed that great bear themselves, skinned it and tanned the hide.

Grace placed her hands on her belly, feeling a little self-conscious at the thought of touching herself now that she was actually naked. But there was no one here. Even the cats had wandered through the cat flap and down the stairs. No reason to be embarrassed. She ran her hands down her legs first, rubbing her ankles, sighing at her touch. As she made her way back up, she closed her eyes and thought of Bull, thought of him touching her like this, her touching him. His skin was rougher, more scars certainly. She skimmed her breasts, too embarrassed to touch them, up her neck, ending at her scalp.

She let out a sigh, relaxed--aroused but more at ease with herself. She scanned the next line of the letter.

_Get into bed, lean back. Prop this letter up so you can read it without holding it. Two free hands will make this more fun._

Right. Pillows fluffed and letter placed, she sat back and readied herself for whatever would come next.

_Comfortable? Good. Take the ribbon. Wrap it around your thigh and tie it off with a bow. Keep it tight enough so you can feel it when you flex your leg. That’s my anchor to you. My hand. I’m here with you, kadan. No matter how far apart life takes us, we’re always together._

With trembling hands, Grace wrapped the ribbon around her thigh, high up, where she liked Bull to keep his hand. Her first attempt didn’t hold, the loop slipping out.

“Bugger it all.”

She really needed three hands but she concentrated this time, determined to get it right. With her thumb in the middle, she made the loop, pulled the other end through and tightened it up. She flexed her leg. Didn’t slip. Felt tight, just like how Bull said to do it.

_Now the fun begins._

_You like to be teased. You crave fingertips on your skin. Touches everywhere but where you want them most. Drag your fingers over your belly, between your tits, along your neck and all the way back down to your thighs. Watch yourself. Concentrate on the feeling. Keep away from your nipples. Hey, don’t give me that look. Wait. It’ll be worth it, trust me._

Grace did has the letter said, back arching as her fingers made their way up her belly, stroked between her breasts. She avoided her nipples, not quite ready to touch them yet anyway, then back down. Her thumbs skirted the inside of her thighs. She kept reading as she stroked herself, wanting to carry out the instructions as best she could.

_Brush the sides of your tits, that crease underneath. Mm. So soft. Continue down your ribs and waist, hips. Grip your thighs, hold your legs open for a moment. Imagine me there between you, smiling at you. Is that where you want me? Picture my face buried in your cunt and your legs over my shoulders. Or would you prefer me on top, pinning your hands above your head, sinking into you, surrounding you with all of me._

_I bet you read that and put your arms up, touching the headboard. Feel good? Stay like this a moment, stretched out. Grab the sheets, dig into the bed with your toes. You can’t touch yourself when you’re like this. You like it when I lay you bare, leave you wanting._

“Oh, Bull,” Grace groaned, surprised to find that she had indeed put her hands above her head. Her cunt ached and pulsed, feeling like Bull was there between her legs just like he wrote. When she closed her eyes she pictured him at her feet, smiling at her while she waited for him to make his move. A shudder went through her.

_You need some action now though, some touch. But what’s it going to be? I could use my tongue or my fingertips. Or draw a peacock feather agonisingly slow down your body. Damn, I wish I could see you all flushed and panting. But I’m not with you. You’ll need to be your own tease. You can do it._

Yes. Grace could tease herself. Or try to, anyway.

_Start for the oil. What kind did you get? Pour it between your tits, watch it roll down your body, tickle your sides as is soaks into the sheets. Add more. Drizzle the oil down your body, fill your belly button. Watch it seep through the hair between your legs._

Lavender oil. The cook had given her lavender oil. Perfect. Grace laughed as she popped the cork, gasped as it spilled over her chest. Cold, she hadn’t counted on it being so cold. The oil slid down her body, little rivers following the contours of her muscles. No need to pour any into her belly button: that had filled as she’d sucked in a breath, oil running down to fill the space.

_Draw your knees up, if they aren’t already. Pour oil down each leg. Feel it trickle into your folds and creases. Put the bottle down. Start at your knees and rub yourself, down your thighs, including the ribbon, and over your hips. Spread the oil. Follow it, palms firm. Rub it into your belly, over your tits. Keep going, along your collar bone, up your neck. Press two oily fingers behind your ears. You like that, right? Relax. Lose yourself to your touch. Keep going as long as you can. Add more oil if you want._

Grace groaned, losing herself as she followed each step. Her hands glided over her skin. Oil tickled in her folds, melted in as she writhed on the bed. Gingerly, she cupped her breasts, feeling her nipples against her palms. Slick now, and hard. She revelled in the feeling. She dared look: pink and shiny against the cream of her skin. She kept on hand on her breast as the other found its way up her neck and behind her ear. She leant into her touch, like she would if Bull were behind her, rubbing her neck. Tension drained from her as she explored.

_Your body is slick now, but what about your cunt? Seek it out, touch it, lightly. Part your lips and feel how wet you are. Run your finger up and down, up and down. Tease your cunt--just a little. Dip your finger in, squeeze around it. Can you feel that? That’s what you feel like when I’m in you. Does things to me, kadan._

Too much, if she touched herself now, she’d come. She couldn’t, not yet. Not yet. With her hands flat on the bed, she stared at the wall, breathing slow in through her nose, then out her mouth. Closing her eyes just meant seeing Bull.

Sufficiently calm, she put her hands between her legs and felt herself. Her cunt clenched around her finger, tight. And he felt this when he was in her? She felt envious until she realised that she could put her own fingers inside her whenever she wanted. She did it again, teasing, amazed at the feeling.

_Make some noise, if you aren’t already. Moan my name as you drag your hands over your body. Find your way back to those fantastic tits of yours. Still slick? Run your fingers over your nipples. Do it slow. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. Go back the other way. Are your nipples hard? Keep going until you can’t stand it anymore._

“Oh, Bull. Feels so good,” she moaned, pulling her hands away from between her legs to rub her breasts. She cried Bull’s name again as each finger slipped over her nipples. One. Two. Three. Four. She grazed her thumbs over, gasping. Back again. She managed another pass before she had to stop. She gripped her breasts, legs askance.

Lavender filled the air. Sex, too. She turned the page, gasped as she read the first line.

_We’ll try the feather now. What did you find? I look forward to seeing it._

She’d forgotten all about the feather. She picked it up now, felt a thrill go down her spine, felt terribly wicked for what she was about to use Josephine’s quill for.

_You get to test it first, lucky you. We’ll see how this goes. You might have to close your eyes to heighten the sensation. Start under your chin. Draw it along your jawline and neck, down your chest. Circle the softness of your breast, then the other. Get as close to your nipples as you can without touching them. Ache for that contact on your buds but resist the temptation to tickle them._

The feather trembled in Grace’s hand as she twirled it along her jaw. She knew the path it would take, but that didn’t lessen the sensation. She circled one breast, sucking in a breath, swearing when her chest heaved and the feather slipped over her nipple, sparking pleasure through her. She could do it again, just a little flick. She dangled the feather above her breast, daring herself to brush it over nipple, to relieve the tension.

“No,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and drawing the feather along her jaw instead, waiting for the ache to pass.

_Get the feather wet with oil as you continue down your body. Does it feel good? Does it tickle? Lighter than finger tips. Brush yourself, make yourself squirm. Circle your belly button._

_Lower._

Bull had to know what he was doing when he wrote this, knew exactly how to get Grace to the point of no return. Her stomach rippled, muscles tightening as she dragged the feather, oil slick, in slow circles before going lower.

_Tease the hair between your legs, feel it prickle, oil slick and sweat soaked. Part your lips now and brush the feather over your folds. Flick it against your bud. Keep going. Brush yourself where ever feels best. Go as long as you can._

Agony. Not enough pressure from the feather, no matter how hard she pushed. A light dusting of not-enough and please-don’t-stop. Bull had had her like this before, muscles straining, body tingling, teetering on the edge of falling.

_Almost there, Grace. How do you feel? Do you want more?_

“Maker, yes. More. Everything, please.”

_Sink your fingers into your cunt, lick them, taste yourself. I bet you taste good. And you’ll smell amazing. All that oil, sweat from the day you've spent running around gathering your resources. And sex. Sex, kadan, oh you know how I love that smell. I could bury my face between your legs and drink that scent for days._

Grace whimpered as she closed her lips around her fingers, sucking in air through her nose, pressing her tongue against the pads.

_Explore your cunt again. Can you find that spot inside? Press it, rub it, find out how it feels. Grab your breast, thumb your nipple. Make some noise._

No matter how hard she tried, Grace couldn’t find what Bull could focus on with his little finger. She clenched around her finger again, enjoying the feeling anyway, even more so when she dragged her fingers over her nipple. Again and again she rubbed, one hand on her breast, the other between her legs. There, right there.

“Oh Bull--”

_Stop. Take your hands away from yourself. Press them into the sheets. Relax. Breath. Flex your legs. Can you feel the ribbon?_

“Yes, yes, yes.” Grace gritted her teeth, dug her hands into the sheets, all oily, sticky. She didn’t care.

_You’re almost there, Grace. You’ve done so well to get this far. When you’re ready, come. Do it however you want. Do what feels best. Touch yourself the way you love the most. Think about me, my tongue on your cunt and my hands on your tits, licking, stroking. Nothing holding you back. Cry my name, groan, whatever you want. Come hard._

_Come hard._

Grace cried Bull’s name, her eyes shut, one hand between her legs and the other cupping her breast. Her body shook but she didn’t let up, continuing to stroke herself, like Bull would, eking the shudders and shivers. Her cunt pulsed around her hand, wet, hot until--

Until she flopped back, panting. A laugh bubbled up, caught in her throat before escaping. Another followed, filling the air. She dragged a hand down her face, disregarding the oily streaks. The bed felt like clouds embracing her in a hug both all-enveloping and so soft. Grace rolled onto her side, smiling as she read the next page, her eyes half closed.

_You feeling okay? Remember to breathe. Deep breaths. Fill your lungs up and let the air out slowly. Relax. Drink some water. When you’re ready, untie the ribbon. Fold it in half, and in half again and put it out the way._

_Remember the apples and cheese? Eat. Feel the crisp apple mix with the soft cheese. Wash it all down with some wine. And please, Grace, don’t drink the whole bottle. You remember what happened last time. Save me some, okay? Take your time. Come down slowly, float back to me._

The glass of water went down, followed by a measured sip of wine. She took her time unwrapping the cheese, holding it to her nose, taking in the scent before breaking it apart with her fingers.

As she took a bite of apple and added a chunk of cheese she noticed the ribbon still tied around her thigh. The bow lay limp, the previous bright yellow stained dark from the oil. She flexed her leg, felt the ribbon tighten. Didn’t want to take it off yet, not willing to sever her connection with Bull.

She ate, savouring the fruit and cheese at first, nibbling the edges. Before long she had the brie in one hand and an apple in the other, taking bites straight from the cheese, then the apple. A heady mix of sour and creamy filled her mouth, crunchy and soft. Greedy, she cared not for decorum now. No one could see her, tell her off for eating like an animal. She devoured both the brie and the apple, only setting one down to gulp down wine, not stopping until she’d finished and licked her fingers clean.

All done. Satisfied.

She finally pulled on the bow, letting the ribbon unravel and pool under her leg. After wiping her hands on the sheets, she folded it in half and in half again.

_How do you feel? Relaxed? Legs and arms like jelly? Put your night dress on. Doesn’t matter if it’s bedtime or not. You’re bound to fall asleep regardless of the time of day._

_Make yourself comfortable, Grace. Rest._

_I shall return as soon as I can, kadan._

_Your Iron Bull_

The sun still clung to the horizon, not yet willing to let the mountains claim it for another night. Grace shuffled into her nightdress and snuggled down, weariness cloaking her along with the blankets atop her. Before sleep could claim her, she took the ribbon--stained now with cheese and apple as well as oil--and wrapped it around her hand.

*

Iron Bull lead his horse over the bridge, home at last and with only a couple more scratches than when he left. Skyhold filled his view. Stone towers, sturdy and permanent, providing protection and refuge from enemies. Home. He snorted at himself. Still, this mountain fortress was the longest place he’d been based for ages. Not since Seheron. Best not to think of that place.

A figure at the top of the tower waved. He transferred the reins to one hand and went to wave back but she’d disappeared already. Question now was whether she’d beat him to the stables or not.

“Want me to sort the horses out?” Krem asked, riding up alongside Bull.

“Why would you offer to do something like that?” Bull ignored Krem’s smirk, knowing he’d seen Grace too.

“Because your girlfriend’s waiting for you,” he laughed, galloping forward to get out of the way of Bull’s punch.

Bull grumbled, knowing he’d walked straight into that one.

Grace waited at the stables, fidgeting, grinning.

“Hey kadan. Good to see you.” The stress of the trip drained from him as Grace lay a hand on his chest and reached up to kiss him. He held her there a moment, enjoying the lingering softness of her on his lips.

“I have something for you,” he whispered. “Let me sort out the horse. Wait for me in your chambers. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

She smiled, yelped as he sent her off with a pat to the ass. He swallowed hard as he watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. He tore his gaze back to his horse, blinking at the saddle. Best not let Krem catch him ogling at her like some tavern girl.

“I’ve got this, Chief. You go see to your woman.” Krem took the reins and lead the horse away. “Clean yourself up first. You stink.”

Bull just waved at Krem, heading back to the Chargers’ camp before his Lieutenant changed his mind on being so helpful. After a wash and a change of pants and shoes, he set off to find Grace.

He took the stairs to the keep one at a time, ambled down the hall. The guard posted at the lower chamber door stepped aside with great pomp to allow Bull through. Now he took the stairs two at a time.

“Crap,” he mumbled, nearly tripping in his haste.

His chest heaved as he arrived at the top of the stairs. Didn’t care. He knocked four times, entering when Grace called out immediately.

Shit--there she was. Naked on the bed, all coy smiles as she drew her leg up.

He made to crawl onto the bed, cover Grace with hot kisses to make up for time lost.

“No,” she said. She bit her lip as he froze, half on, half off the bed. “Sit over there. Read this. I want to show you.” She passed him a sheaf of papers from her nightstand.

He did as she said, too bewildered to object. Once he’d sat on the sofa he looked at the paper. He recognised his handwriting and the opening lines immediately.

“You’ve already begun.” He grinned at Grace.

“Start at the start anyway.” She squirmed, smiling back.

Bull couldn’t tear his gaze from hers. His heart thudded, cock twitched. How had he gotten so lucky? Finally, he looked down at the paper, focusing on the script. He knew the words well and suspected Grace did too. _Here we go_ , he thought. _Show me, Grace. Show me what I’ve missed._ He held the letter up, smiling.

“‘Grace, if you’re reading this letter, then you will have found all my clues and gathered all the items...’”


End file.
